


Pining and Paintings

by TheDeanmon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Crazy Castiel (Supernatural), Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Past Balthazar/Castiel (Supernatural), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 08:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeanmon/pseuds/TheDeanmon
Summary: It's another destiel roommate AU, but this time, Castiel is a manic painter and Dean's a huge dork.





	Pining and Paintings

Dean Winchester never expected to fall in love with his best friend, and he certainly didn’t expect to be waiting in his car outside the apartment they shared with a bouquet of flowers.

Dean met Cas in fourth grade. He was the new kid and Cas was the weird kid, so he immediately gravitated towards him. Initially, they’d gotten along perfectly, but in ninth grade, Dean went through a period where he hated being around Cas. He told himself it wasn’t because of Castiel’s new boyfriend, Balthazar, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his chest. Eventually, they broke up and Dean came back, and they ended high school side-by-side. Dean graduated from the University of Kansas with a degree in mechanics, and he patiently waited for Cas to come back from Chicago with his doctorate in something useless. He did.

Flash forward six months later and they were sharing a high rise apartment in Kansas City, and doing everything as a couple aside from, of course, labeling it.

Dean got out of his car, grabbed the flowers, and went inside, walking with as much ease and confidence as he could manage.

Apartment G13 was flooded with loud music when Dean opened the door. Castiel immediately crossed the floor and hushed him. He pushed the door shut, leaning close enough to smell. His hair was askew and streaked with yellow paint. “What’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Working,” Cas replied, “what time is it?”

Cas took Dean’s arm and looked at his watch, at the same time, Dean said, “6:30.”

Cas pushed at his hair, “Already?”

Dean nodded, “Did you get out of your pajamas today?”

Dean knew before Cas answered that he hadn’t. “I’ve been too busy.” He noticed the flowers then and said with a smile, “Hot date?” Dean’s mouth felt dry and his face went hot, but Cas had turned away before Dean spoke. Dean put his keys down and went to the kitchen, laying the bouquet on the counter. “I’m painting about Balthazar.”

Dean groaned, “Again?”

“Well, he is the one who broke it, Dean.” Cas told him, turning back to him.

“Broke what?” Dean asked.

Cas made a gesture with his hands, but didn’t elaborate, and then Dean watched him walk toward the corner of the dining room that Castiel used as a studio. The canvas in front of the window was yellow and red, splotched with black and tender blue.

“Cas,” Dean murmured. The sincerity of his voice drew Castiel’s eye. “Time to take a break.”

Castiel watched him carefully, eyes scanning his face and then dipping somewhere below his chin. “Okay,” Cas said, wiping his hands on the oversized KU shirt Dean had gotten him two Christmases ago. Despite the ferocity Castiel painted with, and the way Cas had wiped his hands, the shirt was relatively clean. (Save for a coffee stain Cas would freak over if he noticed.) “Okay,” Cas repeated, “what do you want to do?”

Dean’s hands started sweating and he had to swallow air to keep from saying something he wasn’t ready for. “Tell me about your day.” Dean said.

Castiel laughed, “What?”

Dean gave him a look, “What did you do today?”

“I worked,” Castiel deadpanned. He carried his jar of dirty paintbrushes out of the corner and into the kitchen, sauntering past Dean as he went. Dean stopped himself from reaching out. Somedays he could get away with it, but most of the time it would be too hard to explain away. Castiel turned on the water in the sink and took out a brush. Dean pulled himself up on to the counter and watched. “Were there any cool cars today?” Cas asked throwing a glance over his shoulder at Dean. The sparkle of just-too-much was in his eye, and it kept Dean from smiling.

“‘76 stingray,” Dean said.

Castiel laughed, “Mr. Faris came again?”

“He’s convinced there’s a rattle,” Dean shook his head. Castiel snorted and continued cleaning the brushes, one by one.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, and when Cas had finished with the brushes, he stood in front of Dean, almost between his knees. Dean swallowed and Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

Dean said, “Yeah.”

“Your face is red,” Castiel pointed out, head tilting. “Do you feel okay?” Dean nodded, but before he could really answer, Cas was pushing closer and laying his palm flat on Dean’s forehead.

“Cas,” Dean choked out, voice catching. Cas dropped his eyes to meet Dean’s and took back his hand, placing it by Dean’s thigh on the counter.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I like you,” Dean said.

Castiel stared at him for a second and relaxed into a noise that was half-laugh, half-scoff. “Well I would hope so, we’ve been best friends since elementary school.” No, Dean wanted to say, not like that, but he just nodded. Castiel smiled and turned away, disappearing down the hallway before Dean could stop him.

Dean braced his hands on the counter and leaned his head against the edge. He pulled his eyes shut so tightly that he saw spots and muttered, “God, I’m a dumbass.” He squeezed the edge of the counter where his hands were laying, and used it as a lifeline. “'Cause I can’t just say, "Hey, Cas, I’m in love with you.”“

"Oh…”

Dean jerked his head up, face stricken and mouth agape. Cas was standing in the hallway, coat dangling over his left arm. “I, um, it’s not, uh,” Dean stammered, head spinning. This definitely wasn’t going as planned.

Cas blinked and raised an eyebrow, leveling Dean with the same no-nonsense, I-smell-shit stare he’d had since grade school. He didn’t look upset per se, just confused and… well, confused was probably the most accurate word Dean could form. “Dean?”

He realized he was staring, mouth open, so he snapped his mouth shut and straightened immediately. “I, um, didn’t mean it,” he supplied weakly. Cas tilted his head. “I-I mean, hah, I did mean it, I mean, I said it. So, obviously, but, um.” Dean had to stop, swallow, and remind himself to breathe. Cas was staring at him questioning his behavior, no doubt. “I didn’t, um…”

Cas pulled on his tan trench coat and put his hands on his hips. “Dean.”

“I, uh, Cas,” Dean gave a worthless attempt at a smile and then sighed. “I, um, I love you man.”

Castiel watched him fidget for a second and then he said, “Yeah, I know.”

Dean took a slight step back and said, “What?”

“I know,” Castiel repeated brushing one hand over his right lapel, “I’m not dumb.”

“I know that.”

“I’m actually incredibly smart.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Dean huffed, crossing his arms.

“I have a doctorate,” Castiel teased, sly smile tugging at his mouth.

“Cas,” Dean moaned impatiently.

“You aren’t a dumbass.” Castiel said suddenly, “You’re the third most intelligent person I’ve ever met.” Dean glared at him. “Behind the great Stephen Hawking and myself, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Dean grumbled dramatically.

Cas almost giggled which was a noise Dean hadn’t heard since middle school. “You’re not a dumbass.”

“You said that already,” Dean said hotly.

Castiel walked closer and gripped Dean’s arm. He looked deeply at him and then said, “Dean, you’re not.” Dean wasn’t going to be the one to break eye contact. He squeezed Dean’s bicep and offered a gentle look that was so characteristically Cas that it made Dean’s chest constrict.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said softly. Castiel let go of his arm and gave him a smile. Dean grabbed Castiel’s sleeve as he started to turn and then asked, “Hey, Cas, how’d you know?”

Castiel eyed his face and then bumped Dean’s chin with his thumb. “You’re not exactly quiet about it.”

Dean felt his face turn red. Like actually felt it. “What?” Dean asked brokenly, mind supplying a number of unhelpful scenarios Castiel could be referring to. He looked away from Cas and squeezed his hands into tight fists. He was all but shaking and Castiel’s hand on his face definitely wasn’t helping him calm down.

“Your conversations with Sam,” Castiel replied slowly, “or Charlie? Or really anyone who’s tried to ask you out since sophomore year?”

Dean looked at him again, face still bright and hot. He studied the crease between Castiel’s eyebrows, and the crooked bridge of his nose - thanks to a fight with his brother a few years back. “Cas,” Dean sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Castiel asked removing his hand from Dean’s face and making an indecipherable gesture with it.

“I guess I just should’ve told you sooner.” Dean shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away from Cas once more.

“Or first,” Castiel said offhandedly, “You really should’ve told me first.” Dean almost gasped and narrowed his eyes in Castiel’s direction. “I would have appreciated that.”

“You…?”

Cas lifted a shoulder and swayed into Dean’s personal space. “It would have made lots of things easier,” he said as if he were confiding in Dean.

Dean blinked and tried to tell himself he wasn’t imagining the gleam of longing in Castiel’s eyes. “It would?” He asked dumbly. Castiel laughed gently, it was soft and raspy - like most things Cas said. He nodded, and pressed his hands onto Dean’s shoulders. Dipping forward, he pressed a feather light kiss on Dean’s cheek. Dean just stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted. Castiel smiled at him as he pulled away and started to leave, turning down the hallway. “Hey, wait,” Dean said grabbing the fabric in the middle of Castiel’s coat - he halted immediately - “you can’t leave right now.”

Castiel tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing, “Why?”

“Cas, man, I’ve been going out of my mind for years now trying to figure out how to tell you, and you just spring on me that you’ve known?”

“I don’t understand, are you upset with me?”

Dean palmed his forehead, “No, I’m not,” he sighed. “Cas, how long have you known?”

“Most of our lives.”

“I haven’t even known that long. When did you really figure it out?”

“When I came home for Christmas my third year of college and you still hadn’t gotten a girlfriend,” he answered truthfully, hands coming up in a motion that practically spelled, ’duh.’

Dean cleared his throat, “So for a while now?” Castiel nodded. “Well then, uh, why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want you to get upset,” Castiel told him. “You have a very… interesting view of masculinity. I didn’t want to encroach upon that.”

“Cas, dude, what the fuck?”

“I wasn’t going to mention it.”

Dean looked at him closely, and then waved his hand. “Come here.” Castiel obliged. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

“Yes,” Castiel said speculatively, one eyebrow arched.

Dean nodded, took a breath, and pressed his mouth against Castiel’s. He had been in love with Cas since freshman year - probably sooner actually - and it all lead up to this. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, imitating plenty of teenage girls worldwide, and let Dean figure out what to do next. He settled on holding Castiel’s hips, but that felt wrong. Too distant. He’d been waiting for this kiss for at least nine years, and goddamn it, he was going to make the most of it. He pressed one hand flat in the center of Castiel’s back and let the other slide down to the waistband of Castiel’s jeans, bringing them closer. Cas seemed to melt under Dean’s hands, turning into someone completely different. Gone was the rigid man he had fallen in love with, replaced instead by someone who radiated heat and health and genuine satisfaction.

Dean turned them so Cas was pushed up against the counter, and, in return, Castiel twisted his fingers into Dean’s hair. Cas pulled his mouth back for a second to breathe and smiled at Dean, mouth painted pink. That goddamn smile. Jesus Christ, it was going to make a believer of Dean. Dean made the mistake of telling Cas, and he laughed outright - in Dean’s face, actually.

“Sorry,” Cas heaved when he had finished laughing, “it’s just that that was cute.”

Dean’s face burned red again, and Cas leaned forward and kissed him. Dean didn’t hold a grudge, he held Castiel’s face with one hand and leaned on the counter with the other. Cas ran his hands across Dean’s middle, locking his arms around him, and let Dean lift him so he was sitting on the counter. Then Castiel’s hands were in his hair again, and God, that really did it for him. Dean pulled himself back slightly and looked up at Castiel.

“I’ve been waiting a long time,” Dean murmured.

Castiel nodded, “Me too.”

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly and said, “What do you mean?”

“Dean,” Cas said, hands running through Dean’s hair repetitively, “I fell in love with you in sixth grade.”

“What?”

“You took Lisa Braeden to the spring formal,” Castiel said, looking just over Dean’s shoulder. Like he was staring at the memory. Dean wondered if he was. “I assumed we would go together, but you asked her.” Dean rubbed Castiel’s thighs, Cas grabbed his hands and held them there. “I had to go because I was class representative, but when I saw you two together I got a stomach ache and my dad had to come pick me up.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Because I didn’t want you to,” Cas said. He shook his head, “In eighth grade when you dated Bella Talbot,” Dean nodded, “I decided to get back at you.” Castiel refused to meet Dean’s eyes. “So I asked Balthazar to help me.” Dean took a deep breath, Cas hadn’t ever told him any of this. “He told me he’d go out with me to make you jealous, but I had to play along; do what he wanted.” Castiel closed his eyes, “I did for a while, but he wasn’t you, so it wasn’t worth it anymore.”

“That’s why you broke up?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded and then looked back at Dean, smiling sheepishly. “Do you hate me?”

“No, Cas,” Dean said with a shake of his head. He pressed a tender kiss to Castiel’s jaw, peppered with scruff. “I love you too much for that.”

Castiel smiled and kissed Dean again. They stayed in that night, moving from room to room, never separating for too long. They slept in the same bed, wrapped around each other - but that was hardly new. When Dean woke up the next morning, he was alone and he almost thought he had dreamed the whole night up, but he stumbled into the living room and saw Cas and knew he hadn’t.

Castiel was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, painting on a canvas he’d laid on the ground in front of him. He was wearing one of Dean’s shirts but wasn’t wearing pants, and Dean felt his stomach twist. “Cas?” Dean asked. Castiel tilted his head back and grinned at Dean upside down.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel said, “there’s coffee in the kitchen.”

“Are we going to talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Castiel asked the painting on the floor. “You love me, and I love you.”

Dean filled his coffee mug and took a sip, “Very good points.” He got ready for work, kissed Cas goodbye, and when he came home, he admired Castiel’s new painting: a pair of kind, green eyes.


End file.
